


texas forever

by saaarebas



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Feelings, M/M, and then fluff, brief mentions of lyla/jason, but lots of feelings, unimaginative titles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saaarebas/pseuds/saaarebas
Summary: “You know things have changed, Tim.” Jason looks away when he says it, his mouth a hard line. He sounds sad but resigned, like he doesn’t like it but he knows it’s not worth fighting.  Things don’t have to change, Tim wants to say. We can still be exactly the same.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore the relationship after Tim comes to see Jason at the hospital. But, of course, I had to take it in a different direction from the show. Just can't help myself.
> 
> I don't know how to write summaries. Hope you like it.

ONE

 

The day before the game, the Panthers go and see Jason.

There’s a lot of them, so it’s a bit tight but they squeeze into that hospital room with all the grace they can muster. They form a neat line, a sort of rotating procession of well-wishers. Smash’s at the front, and it seems right that he should head it up. Saracen’s too weird about it, feels guilty for stepping into Jason’s shoes. And Tim, well...he’s not sure he can handle being the first person to see Jason. He’s doing enough facing fears as it is, without bursting into tears in front of the whole team. 

It’s weird, walking in there. He’s almost glad they’re going as a team, since it forces him to show up. He wants to see Jason, is the thing. He does. But there’s this pit in his stomach, this aching thing. So he slides into the back of the line, and shuffles forwards like his shoes are full of lead.

The guy in front of Tim hits Jason on the shoulder and sidles away, and it’s like the whole room empties out in seconds. There’s just him, and Lyla, and Jason. 

Jason looks good. It’s almost a shock to see that he looks like the same old Six he was before. Hair’s a little longer, legs a little thinner than they were last time, but the eyes are all Jason. It’s like Tim can’t look away even if he tried. “I missed you, Street,” he says quietly, and Jason, bless him, reaches out and takes his hand. It’s funny. His hands still feel the same.

“Where the hell you been?” asks Jason. He’s kidding, but there’s a trace of hurt behind it and Tim kicks himself for not coming earlier. For not coming alone. 

“Oh, you know,” he says softly. “Around.” And then the tears that he’s been holding back since they stepped into the goddamn hospital start flowing. Tim’s thankful for his long hair when he turns his head away, grateful that it hides his face a little bit.

“Go.” And Tim does, wiping at his eyes as he leaves the room. It’s okay though, cause Street sounds like he’s got something caught in his throat too.

And just like that, it’s easy. He’ll be back.

  


TWO

 

Tim leans against the doorframe and watches Jason. He’s back again, only a few days later. Jason had laid into him before for being a shitty best friend, and he was right. He was determined to make it up to him.The nurse at the desk told him Jason was in the weight room, to go right on in, but now he’s almost loathe to disturb him. He’s working so hard, the effort it takes to lift a small weight evident in the set of his shoulders. It’s a stark contrast to the glowing quarterback he was before.

“Jay Street,” Tim calls loudly, sauntering into the weight room. He’s at home here, even though it’s a foreign place. Weight rooms are Tim’s thing. He’s in one every day. It’s practically his religion. 

Jason looks back at him and there’s a flash of his trademark bright smile. “Christen? Can we have a few minutes?” The nurse nods as Tim comes closer.

“Can you spot him so he can’t fall forward?” asks the nurse. She’s friendly, middle aged, and smiles down at Jason. Of course. He would have the whole place charmed already. 

Tim nods and lets the nurse guide his hands into place. She moves out of the way and disappears.

Standing so close to Jason is weird. They’re guys, and besides the odd fistbump or ass slap on the sidelines, they don’t touch much.  Tim never really had the occasion to appreciate Jason’s muscles, but here, with his hands pressed firmly on his shoulders, they’re impossible to ignore. He shifts his fingers, gets more comfortable. It’s awkward just touching him like this, with no purpose to it. “Brace off today,” he says absently. “Nice. Congrats.” 

It sounds super dumb, and maybe that’s why Jason doesn’t even dignify it with a response. Thing is, Tim can’t even think in here, what with the ten other guys doing their thing all around him, and the nurses, and the bright lights, and the overwhelming  _hospital_ smell that’s somehow still here even though it’s not a hospital anymore. He needs to be somewhere that’s not about Jason’s injury. Somewhere where it’s about them. “What do you say you and me get out of here later?”

Jason does another rep and chuckles. “Yeah, great idea,” he says. “Where do you think we’re gonna go?”

“I got some ideas,” says Tim, which is sort of the truth. Actually, he’s got one idea, one great idea that he knows will be perfect, knows is exactly what they need. “Tell you what, anywhere but here, man.” He wrinkles his nose theatrically. “It smells.” One of the guys exercising nearby gives him a dirty look and Tim amends quickly. “It smells like a hospital and I hate hospitals.”

Jason shakes his head, but fondly. “Alright, genius. When are we doing this?”

“I’m thinking tonight,” says Tim. He shifts his grip on Jason’s shoulders. 

Below him, Jason turns and stares out the window. He watches a bird fly from one branch to another, feathers ruffling in the wind. “Let’s do it,” he says decidedly, and Tim smiles for the first time in what feels like weeks.

  


THREE

 

“Just reach behind me and lift,” Jason says, like it’s easy. Tim’s strong, sure, but he hasn’t carried a 190 pound guy in a while. Still, he wraps his arms around Jason’s middle and secures his grip. 

“Ready?” he asks softly.

Jason nods. And Tim  _lifts_. Jason’s heavy, a warm solid weight in his arms. “Jesus, why don’t you save some of the jello for the other patients, Street?” he says gruffly, struggling to the door of the truck. 

Jason gives him a scandalized look. “You kidding me?” Tim sets him down in the passenger seat and leans back a little.

“You good?” And pauses. He’s still got his arms around Jason, is the thing, since he can’t really sit up by himself. It’s just. They’re really close together now, close enough that Tim can count every one of Jason’s freckles. It’s..doing things to him. 

“I’m in, I’m in, don’t worry.” says Jason, panting a little, and thank god for that because now Tim can let go and move away and stop thinking about kissing Street.

Jason’s always been gorgeous. Sure, Tim’s the one the girls flock to on account of his bad boy looks, but Jason’s pure gold. He’s got these grey-green puppy dog eyes, and that little dimple by the side of his mouth. Plus, Tim’s seen enough of him over the years to know that Jason’s got a sweet set of abs. He’s basically accepted that some latent part of him is going to want Jason in a way that no best friend ever should.  
  


The day is hot, a classic Texas summer in full swing. Tim’s already sweating as he lugs the cooler down to the dock. The wheelchair’s already there, wheels locked beside a lawnchair. Tim goes back up the hill and opens the passenger door. “You ready?”  
  
Jason nods, and he’s back in Tim’s arms again. It’s no easier than the first time, and he’s straining with the effort. “You ain’t in game shape, are you, Streeter?” He grunts as they make their way down the hill. 

Against his chest, Jason laughs. He’s being carried bridal style and looks way more comfortable than Tim feels at the moment. “How you supposed to carry the team? You can’t even carry me.” He grins, a spark of something in his eyes. If Tim didn’t know better, he’d say he was flirting. “Maybe I’ll get rid of the chair and just have you carry me everywhere.”

“Street!”  


They go out on Tim’s dad’s boat later and watch the birds fly above. Tim nurses a beer, his third of the evening, and watches Jason trail his fingers through the water. It must be weird to feel something and yet not feel it. He wonders what that’s like.

“I could be out here all night listening to this,” says Tim suddenly. He drops his head back against the side of the boat and closes his eyes. “Nothing.”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but it’s cool. It’s like they’re letting the silence grow between them, the way it used to. They’ve been friends for so long that they can sit together for hours without saying anything. Sometimes they used to, after games when your adrenaline crashes and you’re too tired to speak.

“Riggs.” says Jason suddenly. He’s looking at Tim intently, face unreadable. Tim can feel his heart accelerate in his chest. “Why didn’t you come before?”

The permanent stone in Tim’s stomach twists a little. He figured this question was sort of inevitable, had known it was coming. It didn’t make it any easier to figure out what to say. “I…” He started, then trailed off. “It was hard.” 

Jason laughs, and it’s not the sunny laugh that Tim loves, it’s sharp and mean and a little bit desperate. “Jesus, Tim, you’d think it’d be a little harder for me.” 

He’s right and it makes Tim feel worse about everything. About letting his best friend get hurt, about abandoning him when he needed him most, about fucking his girl on the side. What can he even say? He can’t undo any of it, as much as he wishes he could. 

There’s another silence and it’s less comfortable than the first.

 

“Remember when we were just junior-high schoolers, Street?” Tim twirls the neck of a beer bottle in his hand lazily. They went back to the truck when it started getting cooler, the bugs on the lake too much to handle. There was a good deal of space left on the back of Tim’s pickup and Jason was sprawled out on most of it, head propped up on one hand. He raises his head when Tim speaks. “Sneaking down here, dreaming about playing varsity.” He laughs softly. It’s hard to believe they were ever that small.

“You know things have changed, Tim.” Jason looks away when he says it, his mouth a hard line. He sounds sad but resigned, like he doesn’t like it but he knows it’s not worth fighting.

 _Things don’t have to change,_ Tim wants to say. _We can still be exactly the same._ He settles for: “We’re still getting that hunting ranch, Street.”

Jason snorts quietly. “Yeah? And how we gonna do that without my NFL money and your whopping one percent?”

“That’s just it,” says Tim quickly, sitting up. He sets his beer down. “I think I’m gonna go pro.” And as soon as he says it, it’s true. He’d never seriously thought about it before, his future plans always condensed down to just staying Jason’s friend. But the words fly out of his mouth, and suddenly he knows that’s what he’s going to do.

“You think you can do it?” Jason’s voice is incredulous, derisive. It smarts a little that he thinks he can’t. 

Tim shakes his head. “Nope. Not really.” He shrugs. “But that’s just the money part anyway. We can figure that out. Best friends right? Hasn’t that always been more important than football?”

Jason stares at him, brow furrowed like he’s doing the math. “No,” he says finally. “Not always. It is now.” He smiles, quick and bright, and Tim’s never loved him more.

  


FOUR

  


“That was a hell of an effort tonight,” says Coach Taylor. He’s standing on a bench in order to be seen and heard over the commotion. As soon as he starts talking though, everyone falls silent. “It was a hell of a game. I don’t know how in the hell he did it, or where he came from to do it, or what have you. But I know who this game ball belongs to.”

People are slapping Tim on the back, and there’s whooping as he moves forward through the commotion. Coach hands him the game ball and pats him on the shoulder. “That was a hell of a game." 

Tim cradles the ball in his hands. “Thanks, Coach.”

Coach turns back to the rest of the Panthers crowded in that small room. “All of y’all, that was one of hell of a game!”

There’s a cacophony of shouts as the room goes crazy, everyone congratulating each other and chest bumping in the limited space. Then Bradley claps Tim on the shoulder and shoves him towards the benches. “Speech!” he yells. “Panther pride!”

“Speech! Speech!” echoes around the room.

Tim glances over to Jason, who’s looking at him with a guarded expression. He smiles and gives a half shrug. _Give them what they want._

“I….I’m not very good at this stuff, so….” Tim shakes his head and starts again. “Coach is always talking about one team and one heart. And to be honest with you, I thought it was...I thought that was stupid.” There’s a couple laughs, and Coach Taylor even smiles slightly as he listens. “Fact is, he’s right. He’s right. Everybody in this room knows who...where we get our heart from. And he’s sitting right there."

When Tim looks over, Jason’s got his eyes closed like he’s bracing for something. He crosses over to him and holds out the ball. “This ball belongs to you.” Jason doesn’t move a muscle. Tim lowers his voice. “Please. Take it.” There’s a tremor in his voice that he doesn’t like.

Jason sighs and takes the ball. “I love you like a brother, Six.” says Tim softly. He claps Jason on the shoulder. “Like a brother.” Jason doesn’t reply, just looks at him like he’s searching for something. His mouth tightens.

“What are y’all staring at? Y’all played a hell of a game! Go party!” he says finally, with a 100 watt smile that’s a Jason Street staple. It doesn’t reach his eyes, and not for the first or last time, Tim wonders what’s wrong.

  


FIVE

 

There’s something about watching Jason play that makes Tim’s heart skip a beat. He’s so focused, is the thing, like the only thing that matters in the world is the game. It reminds him of summer days running drills on the field, of the last time they played together in that horrible game. There’s a pang of guilt in Tim’s stomach as he remembers that day. If he had tried harder, run faster, played differently, Jason would be okay. They’d still be playing on the Panthers together like they should be.

He watches the game from the sidelines with Lyla, who’s steadily avoiding any sort of eye contact. She’s not ignoring him, really, just staying very polite. Tim doesn’t blame her. He mostly feels relieved, honestly, that it’s all over. And anyways, it doesn’t matter. He’s here for Jason. He shakes all thoughts of the past out of his head and lets himself get caught up in the game.

The game’s over before he knows it. Jason’s still on the court, absolutely soaked with sweat. Herc passes him by, hitting him soundly on the shoulder. Another guy rolls by and congratulates him on ‘not sucking’. The last of the players leave the room, and it’s just the three of them now. Tim gets up and starts clapping loudly. 

“That is the Six I know,” he says loudly, unable to keep the pride he feels out of his voice. “Man, I tell you, those hits. I gotta take some notes. Great game, man.” He crouches down in front of Jason and puts his hands on his knees. “Tell you what, man...”

The end of Tim’s sentence is lost forever as Jason’s fist connects solidly with his left eye. He’s actually knocked backwards, partly from the hit but mostly from the surprise. He looks up at Jason and sees the anger in his face, and in that second everything makes sense.

“Get up, Riggins.” says Jason coldly. “Get up and fight me.”

Tim stands up slowly, his head throbbing. He can’t fight Jason even if he wanted to. It’s as if something’s frozen him to the spot. For once, he can’t think of anything to say. He raises a hand and gently touches the spot where Jason hit him. _Fuck._  

“Come on, you coward.” Jason says, wheeling forwards and colliding with his knees. Tim takes an involuntary step back. “Come on and hit me!”

Tim takes another step back, then another. “No,” he says softly. He feels almost dizzy. Everything’s cold and wrong and far away, like it’s not even happening to him at all.

Jason rams into him again and shoves him backwards. “What? Steal my girl and you’re not ready to fight me, huh?” 

Lyla’s there immediately, stepping in between them. “Jason!” she says, and starts to say something more but he cuts her off.

“Don’t you dare, Lyla. Don’t you dare,” he says, and Tim’s never seen him this angry. Jason turns to him then and wheels forwards. “Come on! Look me in the face. I want you to.” 

Tim turns around finally and heads for the door. “Come back here!” yells Jason. “You’ll steal a cripple’s girl but you won’t fight a cripple?” 

He keeps walking.

  


SIX

 

Jason’s two stress reliefs in life have always been exercise and jerking off. Now that’s he’s not medically allowed to come, he just has exercise. This whole Lyla-Riggins business has led to him spending a lot of time in the weight room. Normally Herc would rib him about it, like he does everything, but strangely the guy’s been quiet. Maybe he knows Jason’s not in the mood.

He does a last set of reps on the bowflex weights, then lets the nurses help him transfer back to his chair. He’s all about being independent and all, but his arms feel very weak at the moment.

Jason feels disgusting. He’s covered in sweat, his hair is dirty, and he’s a teenage boy, okay, so yeah, he smells. He wheels back to his room with the intention of having a nice long shower.

Except, the room isn’t empty. And it’s not Herc.

Tim Riggins is slouched down as far as possible in the visitor’s chair. A hank of greasy dark hair hangs in front of his eyes, but Jason can still see the edges of the wicked black eye he gave him. Good.

“What the hell do you want?” he says coldly.

Tim sighs. He’s wearing a ratty old flannel and he looks the same as he always has. If he squints, Jason can pretend nothing’s changed. “Look, Street...I know you hate me right now, and god knows, I don’t blame you. Shit, I hate me too. But I couldn’t….” He trails off. “I had to come by and explain, at least. I couldn’t leave it like that.”

Jason wheels around to the side of the bed and snorts. “Explain? What the hell do you think you could possibly say that would make this any better? You’re a dick, Riggins. You’re a dick, and what’s worse is, I thought you were my friend, my best friend, and it turns out the whole time you were just waiting for your chance to fuck Lyla.” 

“It wasn’t like that.” TIm says softly. “God, Street, I mean, I was scared, and she was scared, and we just… I felt guilty. I wanted you to hate me.”

Jason’s about to say something else, lay into him a little more then stops short. “What? That makes no sense.”   

“Doesn’t it?” Tim looks down at his shoes. When he looks up again there’s tears in his eyes. “At that game..I should’ve tried harder. I should have protected you. Man, it’s my job to make those blocks, I’m good at it, I should’ve been there instead of you. I’ve been watching that tape, Six, tryna figure out what went wrong and it’s just.” He shakes his head. “I keep focusing on when you got hit, and I should’ve..” 

“What? Magically transported yourself there from 30 yards away?”

“I should have been there to stop it,” says Tim loudly. “And I wasn’t. That’s why I didn’t come to see you, I couldn’t…” He lets the thought die. “And then you were just so happy to see me, and you weren’t mad at all, and I couldn’t take it. I wanted you to hate me. You should have hated me.” 

Jason shakes his head in disbelief. “Riggs, it wasn’t your fault. Hell, if it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. ‘Course I didn’t hate you.”

Tim looks away. His whole body is vibrating like it does before a game. Nerves. “Yeah.”

Jason sighs. He shakes his head. “Tim, you’re an idiot.” 

Tim looks up. There’s hope, and a vulnerability in his eyes that Jason’s never seen before. “We good?”

“Hell, no, we’re not good. I’m still pissed as hell.” Jason paused. “But I don’t hate you.” 

“That’s something.” says Tim, a half smile cracking across his face.

Jason nods. “It’s something.”

  


SEVEN

 

This time, when they go to the lake, they aren’t sneaking out. Tim comes over early in the day with a case of beer and lawn chairs shoved into the back of his truck. He comes in to tell Jason he’s here, and ends up chatting with Mrs. Street. It’s been a little while since he’s been over for Tuesday night dinner, and she makes sure to let him know the invitation is still open. “Come over this week, Tim,” she says, and he nods.  
  
“I will, ma’am.” Then Jason rolls out of his room, and it’s time to go.

It’s the same as last time, reach behind and lift. Tim’s a bit better at it now, having done it several times, and Jason wraps his arms around his neck which helps a bit. When Jason’s situated comfortably in the passenger seat, Tim shoves the wheelchair into the back and climbs in beside him. “Ready, Six?” 

Jason quirks up an eyebrow. “Go ahead and drive already, Riggins."  


They end up going out on Tim’s dad’s boat again. It’s a beautiful day, the sky a crystalline blue that stretches all the way down to the horizon. The water’s still around them, and they’re far enough out that the world shrinks down to just the two of them and this boat. He hands a beer to Jason and leans back in his chair.

“So, state, huh?” says Jason finally. He’s stretched out fully, sunning himself like a cat in a warm patch. He looks happy, and more relaxed than he’s been in a while. Still, Tim can see a little sadness in his eyes, and he wonders if that’ll ever go away.

“Yeah.” He lifts a fist in the air, the one with the state championship ring on it. “Panthers, man.” 

“To the Panthers.” Jason takes a swig of his beer.

“You thinking about coaching next year, Six?” says Tim.

Jason shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“You should,” Tim says, before he can stop himself. “Wouldn’t have gotten here without you. Any of us.”

“C’mon, man, I only started coaching at the second to last game.” 

“Still. We...the team needs you around, you know? You’re part of it."

Jason laughs slightly. “The _team_ needs me around, huh?”

“Well...I don’t know about _me_ and Smash and all, but Saracen certainly does.” Tim sits up a little bit. “He was a different man after you started helping him.” 

“He’s a good kid,” says Jason distantly. “A good quarterback.”

There’s a lapse in conversation, a comfortable silence that stretches on and on until it snaps.

“Hey, show me that tattoo of yours,” says Tim suddenly. Jason complies, rolling up his sleeve to expose the black swirling writing on the inside of his forearm. Tim shifts closer to see and frowns. “What’s it mean again?”

“Peace,” says Jason. “It’s Sanskrit.”

Tim nods. It makes sense for Jason. Jason’s a cold drink of water on a hot day, a dive into a swimming pool when you’re exhausted. He’s an oasis, something Tim can count on to make him calm when everything else is crazy. “Can I..?”

“Yeah,” and Tim takes a hold of his arm. The tattoo looks so stark against Jason’s smooth pale skin, like it’s superimposed or drawn on. He rubs a finger gently across the writing, strangely surprised that it’s not raised up. Jason shivers.

And that’s when everything changes. It’s like being hit with a freight train, this sudden shift in the atmosphere. Tim looks up and there’s a heat in Jason’s eyes that he’s never seen before.

There’s a pause. Tim’s intimately aware of all the places they’re almost touching, and how easy it would be to close the gap and..

“C’mon, Timmy,” says Jason quietly. “Do it if you’re gonna.”

And Tim does, and then they’re kissing, and oh, it’s like _nothing_ he’s ever felt before. The angle’s all wrong and their teeth clack together and it’s sort of awkward, but it’s still the best kiss he’s ever had in his sad little life. Tim brings a hand up to cradle Jason’s jaw, feeling the stubble under his fingers.

They break apart after a moment, Tim’s hand still resting on Jason’s face. “Jesus, Six.” He says softly. “You even know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“Pee-wee?”

Tim laughs. “Pretty much.” He shakes his head. “Since when have you..?”

“Since forever.”

  



End file.
